


Titanium Soul

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Depression, Hinted Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kinkmeme fill, mentions of self-injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: Sometimes, it's the smallest thing that ends up being the final straw. A mindless insult, a single bad grade.When Akira finally brings up the courage to confront Ryuji about his bruises, he knows he's already waited way too long.





	Titanium Soul

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=1026529#cmt1026529) kinkmeme prompt. I don't have much to say, other than the fact that I think I've learned one or the other thing about enumerations while writing this, and I love improvement, so double-thanks for this painful but amazing prompt.

It all starts with one particularly bad grade.

Except that is a lie, because it's all been there for so much longer, waiting to be reached out for, to be cared for.

_I should have known_ , Akira thinks to himself, looking at his best friend covered in the hugest blanket they could find, hugging his knees and looking at the floor as if it could give him an answer to all the restless questions filling his mind, as if it could give him the solace he needs, the reasons he craves, the affection he deserves.

It's heart-wrecking to watch, because deep inside, Akira  _has_ known, for long enough that it's almost ridiculous that he's never reached out like this before. Now, with this horrible sight right before his eyes, he doesn't understand anymore – what stopped him from making it a topic earlier, what it was that kept making him believe that things were alright.

“It's cold.”

The voice is but a whisper, barely audible over even just their calm breaths, his collected heartbeat, the small distance that separates them.  It sounds foreign, unknown even, for it's the exact opposite of everything he's ever displayed and embodied. There isn't even a moment of hesitation before Akira  acts , rises to his feet, moves the heater a bit closer and turns it on. He wants to walk over to the bed, to the poor, crate-supported, old mattress that shouldn't be a comfort zone for anyone; but he can't.  After all the signs he has ignored, all the pleads he hasn't heard, it feels like he doesn't deserve to be the one to give this kind of comfort – hugs, calming words, anything.

“It ain't helpin'.”

It's true, because he feels the cold as well, and it's not a kind that could be eliminated by the warmth of a heater – it's all over them, in them, and worst of all, it's a cold that has silently spread between them, where it shouldn't have any right or room to exist.

Eventually, when it becomes to hard to watch and bear, Akira finally decides to walk over and sit down on the edge of the bed,  careful with the way his leg brushes the foot sticking out of the blanket. There's a small flinch, and it's almost enough for him to pull away, but he doesn't.

“I'm so sorry, Ryuji.”

He stresses every single syllable, because all of them are important, his shaking fingers slowly tracing over the bed sheet, his mind indecisive, his heart insecure, lips trembling with words he wishes he'd said earlier, more often or even  _at all_ . There's no way for either of them to undo the past, and the lasting harm it's caused for the present and future, and seeing his friend finally fall apart after breaking so many times does nothing but hurt.

“Ain't your damn fault I'm an entire failure, dude.”

“You're not.”

It's not what he wants to say, because it doesn't hold half as much impact as his feelings do, but it's out before Akira can think about it. He looks up,  see s weak, tired eyes do the same and find his own, the tiniest smile on Ryuji's lips when he presses out an unamused chuckle and grabs the blanket tighter, mumbling into the soft fabric and visibly burying his nails in it.

“We both know y'are just sayin' that to make me feel better.”

Akira shakes his head, forces his hand to stop before he can touch Ryuji, then re-decides and readjusts himself on the bed so he can lean their foreheads together. If there were a single thing in the world he could do to make Ryuji feel better, there's no doubt he wouldn't even consider hesitating, but as things are, he's not sure if there's anything left for him to do, any way to amend for the pain he's caused, the suffering he's watched, so he keeps shaking his head because no,  _no._

_I'm saying this because you deserve better than what I ever gave you._

There eyes meet again, and something is different, more intimate and personal. He still knows that this isn't his place to be, that he's let Ryuji down too many times to be sitting here and pretend to be his _best friend_ – but Akira is stubborn, and maybe he's selfish, too, because he wants to pull Ryuji into an everlasting hug, wants to make him forget about all the bad in the world, about his fears of the future, about the horrors of his past, and shelter him like no one else never felt the need to.

“I wish I'd said it earlier,” Akira whispers, giving in to his instinct of pulling Ryuji into a hug. It's a bit weird a position, considering he's wrapped up in a blanket and curled into a ball, but he leans in as well, and that's all that matters and so much more. His eyes twitch, he swallows hard and visibly tries and forces himself to smile, to breathe calmly, to keep his feelings in. As if he's done trying.

“I wish I'd _seen_ it earlier.”

“I-it's funny, man.”

And this time, his chuckle almost sounds genuine, which is arguable a lot worse than the fake one, because it only proves how little respect he has for himself, how much he truly believes that it's _funny_ what he's going through – that he deserves it.

“I guess I got pretty good't hidin' bruises over the years. Y'could say it's the only thing I'm good at.”

“That's not true.”

Before Akira gets the chance to argue, to explain how much Ryuji has given him ever since the beginning of his probation, how much of a good friend he's been, how much easier he's made everything from the first day on; the words die in his throat, because he spots a tear – a single one, followed by Ryuji almost aggressively trying to turn his head away, to hide what he seems to believe is a sign of weakness, and as much as he wants to, Akira can't bring himself to force his friend to look at him, to see and accept that he's not useless or substitutable, that he shouldn't be sitting here wrapped in a blanket, freezing, shaking and hiding himself – his mind, his _body._

Instead, Akira just leans in closer, manages to somehow make the position more comfortable even though he has to hug around a fluffy ball of fabric, and falls silent. Maybe it isn't his turn to speak. Maybe all he can do right now is listen and be understanding, offer his support when it's requested and otherwise just be there.

“Dude, honestly. Ever since that bastard broke my leg, I ain't achieved one damn good thing. Runnin' was somethin' that made me proud, but without it…what am I even good for now?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because I have a lot to say.”

“Y-yeah? I mean I doubt it, but…s-sure?”

Akira doubts it's intentional, but Ryuji's body language eases up, he stretches his legs a bit, untangles his hands underneath the blanket and puts them on top of it, now letting them rest on his kneecaps calmly, not digging into the skin anymore. His breath evens out, too, but the look in his eyes is still tense, as if he's ready for the worst. It might not be an invitation, but Akira decides to take it as one and crawls under the blanket as well, brushing their sides against each others and leaning their shoulders together comfortably. That's how it used to be, and that's how he wants it to stay; judging from the relaxed, deep breath coming from Ryuji, from the way his eyes close when he leans in, too, from how content and real his smile looks when he does so – maybe he feels the same.

“You pulled me out of the hell this probation put me in on the first day we met,” Akira starts then, remembering the day as if it had been yesterday. Looking for the school in the pouring rain, watching Ann get in the car with Kamoshida, hearing loud footsteps and an angry voice disrupt the returning calm of raindrops hitting the wet concrete.

“I insulted a teacher and looked at ya funny.”

“And then offered up your life in order to save mine not an hour later.”

It's still the most genuine, the kindest, the most selfless thing Akira has ever experienced, and it's something he hasn't ever told anyone about – and doubts he ever will, because it feels too personal, too intimate to ever share. He doesn't believe in fate, because he's conquered it often enough in the last months, but if there's a single thing that was meant to be, it can't be anything but the day they met.

“It may not feel like much to you, Ryuji, but before that, no one even so much as wanted to look at me, the useless, criminal transfer student. Rumors had already spread before my first day at Shujin, but you simply didn't care, and decided to see for yourself. That's nothing to be taken for granted.”

“Y-yeah. I guess.”

His smile grows the smallest tad wider, and it's incredibly soothing to look at. Things sure haven't been easy for the two of them, but knowing that they've faced most of their hardships together makes it a bit more bearable.

“S-still though. I got Makoto on our ass back then, remember?”

“Let's say you had your fair share of over-excitement. Truth be told, though, you're not the only one. And I think the reason she found out wasn't you to begin with.”

“Huh?!”

Feeling himself blush, Akira turns away a bit, scratching the back of his head nervously. It's nothing he ever planned on sharing with the rest of the Thieves, but he figures that if it helps Ryuji in any kind of way, he can deal with a little embarrassment.

“I'm not sure when it started, but apparently, Makoto kept following me around school and Shibuya. Well…I suppose going to a gun enthusiast shop every other day doesn't necessarily make a good alibi.”

He flinches when he feels Ryuji's shoulder shake against his own, simply because he didn't expect him to burst into laughter. But there he is, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks, both hands holding his belly to ease the pain of laughing so hard, head thrown into his neck. It's the most perfect sight Akira can imagine, and he can't help but desperately throw his arms around Ryuji's middle again to pull him closer. If embarrassing oneself is enough to make him so happy, Akira will gladly do it any day and everyday.

“Damn, dude, that's…guess I got lucky that it ain't my fault then, but…”

The laughter dies out completely, but at least the mood doesn't return to being as foul as it was before that happened. Ryuji raises his hands, inspects the shaking fingers, and while Akira wishes he could do the same, all he sees are the red scratches all along Ryuji's arms – the reason they ended up here in the first place, the incentive that finally pushed Akira over the edge and made him approach the issues that had been boiling up over the course of weeks, of months.

Before he realizes it, he sees his own fingers trace over the injured skin, comes to a halt immediately when Ryuji flinches, but picks the motion back up when he eventually relaxes and let's it happen.

“I didn't mean to worry you, man.”

“I know. And you're not to blame, I promise.”

_Because I'm to blame. I let all this happen to you, I saw, I watched you endure all the amounts of pain no one should have to go through, and I never had the guts, the decency to change a thing._

“But I wish there were a way to turn back time. To convince you that this isn't what you deserve before it could happen.”

“Man, that's sappy.”

But the tone in his voice doesn't match with the words, because it's soft, innocent.

“Thanks, though. I know you mean it.”

They both fall silent, their breaths and heartbeats evening out, Akira's hand still carefully tracing the skin on Ryuji's arm in a most likely poor attempt to ease the pain, even if just mentally – their skin barely touches, because he doesn't know if it still hurts, but he wants to make sure that it conveys his feelings.

_I'm here. I'll always be._

“Still, I…dude, sorry, but I don't get it. Ain't feelin' like there's a reason for me to be. It's just…as if everyone's life'd be easier without me, y'know?”

He knows, although he disagrees. It's the same way he used to feel back after his sentence, right before transferring to Shujin, back when no one believed that he was innocent. Back then, things seemed pointless, so he can relate to it, and that's what makes it so easy to shake his head and say how he feels.

“I'd never want to live a life without you – call me sappy all you want, I'll just repeat that until you believe me.”

And they both chuckle, because it's so obvious that calling it sappy is the exact thing Ryuji wanted to do – but it's good, it's cherishing and it's carefree, the vibration of laughing engulfing both of them, their voices melting into one, their bodies moving closer to each others as if there were any boundaries left to break.

“Damn it, dude, fine.”

Ryuji's still laughing a bit, eyes falling heavy with the exhaustion the whole day caused, with feeling worthless for such a long time, with believing that every day that he went on had been a chore for all of his friends and everyone who knows him – it's like a burden starting to fall off him in small crumbles, like he's fighting his way back up to the surface where the truth awaits, like there's finally a hand reaching out from the other side, giving him back the hope that there's going to be a day when he'll finally be free again, allow himself to believe in a future that is worth living for.

“No idea what I'd do without ya.”

Humming contently, feeling the dizziness take both of them over with each passing minute, Akira nods.

He doesn't know either.

And all he hopes is that neither of them will ever have to find out.

\--- ---

Things change as much as they don't.

Neither of them mention anything of what has happened in front of the other Thieves; there's no denying Futaba knows, which was to be expected considering she has bugs any- and everywhere, but she never brings it up, never even gives them much more than a small smile when she sees their slightly more frequent, slightly more affectionate touches, the looks they share, the supportive nods, the way they lean against and support each other.

Maybe it's obvious to the rest of them, too, because even on days where they're outstandingly different, awfully clingy and terribly unfocused on the matter at hand, no one says a word, no one even so much as raises an eyebrow – it's like an unspoken consent that whatever has happened is nobody else's business, and Akira is glad about that. It's not like he's hiding something,  or embarrassed about it, but things are still difficult and he has respect for that.

“I'm exhausted,” he mentions sloppily when everyone else has left, leaving Ryuji and him alone in the attic, pillows and blankets spread on the floor to make for a more comfortable way to spend their meeting. He doesn't mind the mess, not at all, because it makes the room feel more alive and like an actual place to call home.

“Exhausted? Dude, I'm in for a good run.”

They don't consider or discuss the idea – both of them simultaneously get up, change into more suitable sport clothes and leave Leblanc without a look back. It's an act of less than three minutes, because just mentioning it makes it a unanimous decision, and the path they take is the same as always, too – out of the crowded part of Yongen-Jaya, straight towards a nearby park, running laps around it until either of them can't go on – approximately ninety-nine percent of the time, it's Akira, and he honestly can't bring himself to be mad about that, because the way Ryuji beams at him for being in good shape makes it all worth it.

“Seems like…you win again…figures.”

“You haven't been slackin', have ya? Huuuh?”

He accepts the shove against his shoulder, laughing carefreely. Maybe he has, just a tiny little bit, but he promises himself to pick up on his regular gym sessions again, because this right here, running together, feeling the cool breeze wash away all their worries and the pain for even just a few minutes – he wants to cherish it for as much and as long as he can.

When they both finally settle down next to the small lake, the sun having long but set, both of them looking up at the moon, their fingers brushing in the cold, wet grass – it's as if things are perfect, even if just for a moment, just the blink of an eye, and perhaps that's the only thing giving Akira the courage to look over, take in the sight of Ryuji beaming like the sun itself, a content grin on his face, and decides to lean in  to plant a kiss on his cheekbone, eyes never torn from how Ryuji's widen in surprise, how he tries to look over without pulling away, how his fingers clench and ease, and how eventually, he sighs, nods and says:

“Yeah.”

His voice is thin,  weary,  so contrary to what Akira used to believe him to be, but he likes it, he  _loves_ it, and he never wants to let go, never wants to share this with anyone else. Before he can react, he finds himself on the earth, arms around his middle and a nervous but honest chuckle brushing against his hair.

“That's still sappy.”

But then, much quieter, much less secure, but no less happy, filling him with a joy he'd be unable to explain in words even if he tried:

“I feel the same.”

And that's all they need to know.


End file.
